I Hate Cafes Like This Or Do I?
by AnonymousSanSama
Summary: Remember the Hetalia segments "I hate cafes like this"? Well, a friend of mine & I had a long conversation about them & decided to write our own versions. Please keep in mind that this is my first time writing a reader insert. Chapter 1: Black Magic Cafe. WARNING:weird puns & references K plus because I'm a paranoid idiot. Reviews are appreciated!
1. Black Magic Cafe

You had a terrible day. In an atempt to lift your spirits, you decide to treat yourself to dinner at the new cafe that just opened up. You heard it got some mixed reviews and got curious. You casually saunter down the road to the little building at the corner. It seems cute from the outside. You shove the door. It doesn't budge. Peering at the sign handing in the window, you know that you can read just fine as it has the word "Open" written in fancy letters.

You shove stay strands of [color] hair out of your face, determined to get this stupid door opened no matter what. You push the door again and again, but your efforts are all in vain as the door is a stubborn as a brick.

"Stupid door!" you yell.

That's when you spot what's written on the door. Your cheeks flush so red, it can put a certain Italian to shame. Painted on the glass of the door in a fancy script, almost like a master of calligraphy wrote it, is a simple four letter word. Pull.

You grip the handle with a slightly trembling hand. You slowly push the door open. The sudden sheet of darkness frightens you. The interior of the cafe is larger than how it seemed on the outside. Candles on the walls dimply light the dark space. The only outside light comes from a small window on the door, but that's mostly covered with the word "Pull." The walls are painted black with hints of metalic greens, blues, and reds as well as flecks of silver. To be honest, you're feeling a little nervous at this point.

"Good evening," comes a lovely accented voice.

You turn, your [color] hair whipping around epically. Standing with a sweet smile is a young blonde man with emerald green eyes and enormous eyebrows that, in your opinion, somewhat resemble catapillars. By the sound of his accent, you think he's British.

"Excuse me," the Briton interupts your thoughts on how hot he is. "Would you like a table or booth?"

"T-table for o-one p-p-please," you stammer, feeling like an utter idiot.

He leads you to a table next to the kitchen. You're actually quite happy with the seat as you have a perfect view of two other gorgeous men chatting inside. One had strawberry blond hair and a little har perched on a precarious angle on his head. The other has light blonde hair and a slight feminine look that adds to his attractive appearance. You're unsure, but think you catch a golden glint in his hair. You finally notice something that the three (extremely hot) males are wearing that may be a part of their working uniform: long black cloaks with dark red material on the inside and frayed edges along the bottom.

The Englishman sets a menu in front of you.

"Thank you, Mr..." to your surprise, you don't see a nametag.

"Britian," he replies.

You're taken aback. You didn't expect the personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britian and Northern Ireland to be working in a little cafe in the middle of nowhere.

"Thank you, Mr. Britian," you say, quickly lifting the menu in from of your face to hide the blush that's creeping up your cheeks for the second time.

He strolls away into the kitchen. You bring your attention to the menu, which is split into three sections with three completely different types of cuisine; English, Norwegian, and Romanian.

You're trying to figure out what to order, when a heavily accented voice says, "Good evening. What would you like to order?"

You nearly jump out of your skin. You've seen the movie _Dracula _and this voice reminds you a little too much of the vampire. Your head snaps up. The warm smile and striking red eyes of the strawberry blonde man greets you.

Britian yells from the kitchen, "Romania! Stop scaring the customers! Everyone knows about _Dracula _and that stupid line!"

"At least my food doesn't taste worse than charcoal covered in sand and dirt!" Romania retorts, baring his teeth in anger. You notice that he has what seen to be fangs. Your pulse quickens.

"She looks ready to hyperventilate," comments the third male, Norwegian, by the sound of his thick accent.

England bursts out of the kitchen. He drags Romania back into the kitchen then returns to calm you down.

Once your little episode ends, you decide on a relitively simple dish from the English cuisine part of the menu. What can go wrong with roast beef?

Little do you know that with Britian, almost anything can go wrong when it comes to food. This leads to the following argument that you hear very clearly due to the location of your seat:

"You're not cooking, Britian!"

"...I am inclined to agree with Romania on this matter."

"Thank you, Norway."

"She ordered off my menu, you bloody idiots! That means I'm bloody cooking! That was the deal when we agreed on the tri-cuisine menu!"

"We didn't anticipate that someone would actually order from your part of the menu." A sigh. "You'd think that these people would have wanted foreign foods."

You wince at that.

"You so bloody rude, Norway!"

"Maybe if the meat is raw, we can pass it off as a tartar?"

"We are not serving (bloody," says Britian as Norway pauses for a moment,) raw meat!"

"Fine, fine, fine. It was merely a suggestion."

"Some sugestion that was, you git."

"...Calm down, Britian. I'll cook the meat so you don't have to worry about Romania doing anything."

"Thank you, Norway. I knew I could count on yo-wait what did you say?"

You giggle at this suddent turn of events. Norway has already begun to cook the meat while England curls into a corner and Romania laughs his forign butt off at the whole scene before Norway snaps at him to help with the cooking.

While waiting for your food, you casually sip your water. Peering around, you question the choice of decor in the restaraunt. The paint looks cool, but quite spooky. If your eyes don't deceive you, are those skulls on shelves and bats hanging from the celing? Creepy. You just hope with all your heart that those things are fake. They are fake, right? What really surprises you are the paintings on the walls. Some are pretty, such as the ones of unicorns, faeries and mermaids. Others are strange, including the trolls, imps, and leprachauns. You could only wonder who decided on what piece of "artwork."

A sudden light averts your attention. Your [color] eyes widen in astonishment. A dish carrying your beatifully plated food, coutesy of Norway being a perfectionist, is surrounded by a strange blue glow. You don't find that glow as weird as the fact that the dish is_ floating in the air_.

"Don't worry," Romania assures from an open window where the plate was placed before Norway, from the looks of it, put a spell on it so it would levitate. "The food isn't poisonous because of the spell." The smile widens, revealing his sharp canines. "Magic just makes it look more impressive."

You're at a los for words. The rumors are true about the eccentric trio. You've heard them being refered to as the "Magic Trio" or the "Black Magic Club," but never believed the rumors to be true.

You cautiously poke at the meat with your fork, making sure that no nasty surprises pop out. There are many rumors about Britian, Romania, and Norway circulating, so if them having magical powers is true, who knows what else is?

Romania snickers at the little show you're putting on. "I told you it's not poisonous."

"Th-then you try it first!" You stumble on your words, trying to sound tougher. Then you remind yourself that these three crazy hotties are countries and will not die from simple poison. "F-forg-get it!" you quickly add before finally cutting into your meat.

You feel as though you are in roast beef heaven. You can tell that it was cooked by a foreigner. Well, foreigner by your standards. You hear Romania praising Norway for his wonderful ability to _not _burn food. Britian glares daggers at Romania.

You finish your delicious meal. Norway comes to clear away your dishes. You make eye contact with the deep indigo eyed Norwegian. Chills travel down your back as you feel his eyes stare into your soul.

You pay the bill, leaving a nice tip for each of the countries. You're at the door when Britian approaches you from behind.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself, [Name]," Britian says as you leave.

"Thank you, I did," you reply with a smile.

Realization dawns on you the second the door shuts behind you. He called you by your name. You never told any of them your name. You whirl around, intending to go back inside and demand how Britian knew your name. You grip the handle tightly. This time around you pull, but the door doesn't open. You could have sworn that you had to pull the door when you first came. You try to push the door, but to no avail. The door won't budge at all. Somehow you could sense Britian and Romania's smirks at your pitiful attempts on getting back in. Norway's face still retains its indifferent look, but internally he smirks as well. This whole scene looks super sketchy, thanks to the cloaks and the mysterious decor.

You finally try your last ditch effort by doing something you probably should have done when you realized the door wouldn't open. Knock. Upon receiving no response, you finally just give up and head home. You have one thought circling your mind on your walk back home. No, it's not about how Britian knew your name.

Who knew that cafes could be so terrifying and entertaining?


	2. Important AN: I'm Sorry

**Hey my faithful & patient readers! Nony here with an important message:**

**For about the millionth time, I've been struck with writer's block.** **Yeah, I tend to catch it quite easily. So here's the deal, I'm starting school next week. Automatically, that means that I'm losing time to write. At least I get into the swing of my new schedule. **

**So now, to address my readers & followers:**

**_Gakuen World Academy_****: I am sooooo sorry I haven't gotten chapter four out! I've been really busy with other fics & I still have writer's block. I'm going to try to get the chapter typed up as soon as I can! All I can say about the next chapter: France**

**_I Hate Cafes Like This...Or Do I?_****_:_**** I'm sorry everyone! I had a hilarious idea, but my plotbunnies escaped. I have my team out searching for the Nordic Cafe plotbunny & Baltic Cafe plotbunny**

**_Promise_****: My darling pet project that I've been working on for months now. I know you all want to know what happens, but I don't want to update till I finish chapter 12. I know what's supposed to happen, but my problem is finding the words to use to write it out. Sorry for keeping you in suspense for so long!**

**I hope all you wonderful people can find it to forgive me, Thanks a mill everyone!**

**~``Nony``~**


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